


Idolatry

by ginnyT



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, I am bad at tags, M/M, Musician Castiel, castiel is good at music, dean has a mind that doesn't like to shut up, jsyk, musician au, there will be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 00:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12947697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginnyT/pseuds/ginnyT
Summary: Castiel is a singer-songwriter on tour in Los Angeles. He invites Dean, who had connected with him through his social media, as his personal guest to the show.





	Idolatry

**Author's Note:**

> They say write about what you know, right?  
> Rating for Chapter 1 is General Audiences, however, subsequent chapters (2 or 3 total) will get significantly more explicit so setting the rating as Teen+ for now.

A cool breeze rushed in through the open windows of Dean Winchester’s 1967 Chevy Impala as he maneuvered it through a busy Saturday night intersection. It was March, and Los Angeles temperatures were finally climbing back into some kind of comfortable range, though February’s bite still lingered in the air. Dean’s eyes darted to and fro, one second watching the street in front of him, the next second checking his phone’s GPS to make sure he didn’t take any wrong turns. A wrong turn on the streets of Hollywood could cause quite the delay, especially on a Saturday night, and Dean could not afford that. The clock read 6:46 p.m.

“Better be getting close,” Dean murmured, green eyes flicking down toward his GPS once more. The tinny electronic voice prompted him to make a left onto Cahuenga Boulevard, so Dean did, and noted he was now less than two blocks from his destination. Driving down to the next block, he pulled a left into a small alleyway, inhaling sharply as his impala, his baby, nearly grazed a metal trash can. _Leave it to this city to be built around alleys that were definitely not meant to fit cars,_ Dean thought to himself, annoyed. The Impala’s wheels stuttered as he made a sharp right and climbed a ramp into the parking area.

“Oh, come on!” Dean grumbled loudly as he surveyed the cramped, one-floor parking garage before him. How was he supposed to park his baby in the _one_ available space that looked like it would barely fit a Smart Car? As he gauged the situation through tightly-knit brows, a face appeared next to his open driver’s side window. Dean jerked at the surprise.

“Hey bud, you parking for the show?” The bearded employee asked.

“Uh, yeah, but I’m running late-“ Dean glanced at the clock again. 6:52. “And I really don’t see how you expect anyone to fit their car in here.” His left leg jostled up and down, impatiently, right foot firmly on the brake.

“Oh don’t worry about it, man, you can park her right here and leave me the keys. I do this all day.” The employee held out his hand expectantly. Dean couldn’t help but bark a laugh. Like he was going to just hand over the keys to his baby to this random dude and let him squeeze it in somewhere amongst all the other cars. He shuddered at the thought of her mirrors or doors getting scraped and scratched. The clock read 6:54. _Damn it,_ Dean thought. He normally wouldn’t have cared so much about running late - but tonight was different.

Tonight he’d finally get to see Castiel in person, and Dean’s anxieties heightened just thinking about it.

And if he didn’t get his damn move on and get in line, he’d risk missing the moment Castiel steps onto the stage. Dean decided this was a deal breaker, and idled the car, giving the guy a pointed look as he shoved his phone in his pocket and swung open the door. 

“I know every inch of her, and I’m holding you liable, got it, pal?” Dean held eye contact with the man. The man nodded, non-plussed, and handed Dean a valet ticket.

“Every inch,” Dean repeated sternly. He turned his back, cringed about leaving Baby in a stranger’s hands, and headed back down the ramp, feet working at a quick pace. He pulled his worn green jacket closer as the cool night air grazed his cheeks.

Just down the ramp, on the other side of the alley, a line had formed outside a non-descript door. If there had not been a door-man or line of expectant people, one would have easily missed the entrance all together. Dean joined the end of the line. He peered at his phone inside of his jacket pocket. 6:58. The line was already moving, Dean realized, and his shoulders relaxed just a bit. They wouldn’t start the show letting all the people in, anyway.

The bouncer at the door who was checking everyone’s I.D. looked around 25, give or take. The more he stared at the guy, the more Dean decided ‘bouncer’ was too intense of a word for him.  Slim, average stature, relatively harmless looking, save for maybe the blood red anarchy patches on his black bomber jacket and his rings that looked curiously like a pair of brass knuckles. The line moved a few steps forward.   _Not bouncer –uh, I.D. checker?_ Dean thought to himself, nervously tapping his fingertips on the side of his leg.

Before he could ruminate any further on how to categorize this guy, trying in vain to distract himself from thinking about how soon he’d be seeing Castiel, Dean was face to face with the I.D. checking anarchist. _And his eyebrow piercing,_ Dean thought with a raised eyebrow, as he handed over his I.D. He resisted the urge to flash a cheeky smile as the guy’s eyes darted back and forth between Dean and the little rectangle of plastic. Taking back his I.D., Dean pulled open the heavy black door, practically camouflaged with the side of the building, and stepped through to the other side.

The place was definitely small, maybe a little dingy around the edges, but Dean could see why it was a popular venue for musicians. Intimate, casual, and quite…well, _cool_ , he thought somewhat lamely. Will call was to his right - not that he needed to worry about that, he remembered with a subtle grin – and the bar to his left, which he made an immediate bee-line for. _Gonna need a little liquid courage tonight_ , Dean thought to himself.

“Hey,” the bartender greeted him. “What’ll it be?” She was cute, couldn’t have been taller than 5-foot-2 and was rocking some seriously bright purple lipstick that stood out brilliantly against her dark hair.

“Let’s do a seven and seven for now,” Dean replied. He needed to pace himself as to not end up a bumbling idiot by the end of the show, and maybe adding a little 7-up to his whiskey would slow him down. “I like your lipstick,” he said as she busied herself behind the bar top.

“Well thanks, sweet guy,” she replied, not looking up from the bottle of Seagram’s she was meticulously pouring from.

“Do you know who the opener is tonight?” Dean asked, curious as to what he would have to endure until Castiel took the stage …

 _Castiel,_ Dean thought. _Oh man, Castiel._ He had been so preoccupied with getting to the venue, getting in, and getting a drink, that he hadn’t had much time to ruminate on how he ended up here in the first place. Would he be able to talk to him after? Would he really recognize him, considering they had never met face to face before? The many possibilities of how the night could end up consumed him until the cute bartender’s voice broke through his thoughts –

“Here you go,” she said with a smile as she placed the mixed drink on the bar top in front of him. “There’s actually no opener tonight, our guy backed out earlier today because of an emergency.” She shrugged. “You wanna start a tab or close out now?”

“Definitely, definitely start that tab,” he replied, knowing one drink would not be enough to keep his confidence going all night. He handed her his card. 

“You got it, babe,” she said with a wink as she took it from him, whirling around like a purple-lipstick-ed Tasmanian devil.

Dean took his drink in hand, and turned to the main stage area. It was small. Really small. _Like…crazy small,_ he thought. _Do they expect an actual human being_ and _his instruments to fit on there?_ Eyebrows furrowed in thought, he surveyed the available tables in front of him. He had at least still had a solid pick of spots, despite his worrying. There were only two chairs to each table, and each table had a small candle flickering in the center of it, which added a comforting glow to the otherwise very dim room. He made his way to a table on the left, close enough to the stage to be noticed, but a couple spots back so that he wouldn’t appear too desperate. _A happy medium,_ he thought as he sat down and took a sip of his drink.

 _Mmm…_ just enough Seagram’s to get his confidence flowing, yet just enough 7-up to keep his wits about him. _Perfect._

After a few minutes of surveying his surroundings – the place was pretty packed but not quite pushing full capacity – and heading back to the bar to grab a second drink, Dean took his seat again as the tiny stage slowly lit up with a golden glow. His stomach gave a lurch into his throat, and he placated it with another long sip of his drink. As he sipped, Dean let his mind rove over the events that led him here.

-

Dean had been following Castiel on social media for about six months now, having stumbled over his music page one night as he laid awake in bed. This dark haired, blue eyed singer-songwriter based out of St. Louis had caught Dean’s eye instantly. The snippets of his songs had intrigued him, and he immediately purchased Castiel’s albums from his website. One full produced album, one EP with just four pared-down songs. Since sleep was already elusive enough that night, Dean played through both of the albums, doing little else but laying back and enjoying the music – occasionally picking up his phone and scrolling around Castiel’s pages, shamelessly liking all of the photos of the man mid-performance.

Dean had woken up the next morning to find he had a new follower. _Castiel_ , he noted with a grin. He supposed all that brazen “liking” had not gone unnoticed. Since that first connection, they had messaged back and forth a few times. Dean began by complimenting Castiel’s talent for music, but the conversations broadened to cover a spectrum of topics. It was strange, but Dean discerned their apparent chemistry right off the bat. He had never talked to someone who met his quick wit and humor so effortlessly.

One night as they were messaging, Castiel had revealed plans for a 10-city tour that were being finalized by his manager.  

> > so good news – I think I’ll be coming to LA soon :)              
> 
> > Seriously?? That’s awesome, man. Do you know when? I want to come see you play. 
> 
> > my manager said sometime in March – doing some promoting for the latest EP and stuff
> 
> > Nice. When you have the details sorted out, let me know where I can buy a ticket and I’m on it
> 
> > oh no don’t worry about buying a ticket, I’ll put your name down as my guest and give it to my manager
> 
> > Wow…that’s really nice of you. You don’t have to do that, I can swing a ticket.
> 
> > nah I want you there. it’s my treat. maybe we could even see each other after, hang out a bit? 
> 
> > That would be nice. Sounds good to me :)

Castiel wanted him there. Sacrificed one of his ticket sales for – what? Dean could’ve easily bought his own ticket. He supposed Castiel meant as a gesture. He wanted him to be there as his guest. Dean could only ruminate on what that meant. There did seem to be an unspoken attraction between the two of them, if the late-night photo liking and occasional…implicit message was anything to go by.

One night Dean had cheekily posted a lower quality photo of himself from the chest up, shirtless, clearly having been taken in the low light of his bedroom. He never normally put things like that out on the endless void of the internet – just wasn’t his M.O. – but he had pounded a few drinks that night and couldn’t hold back his curiosity. Dean wanted to see if he could bait Castiel into saying something about it, an idea born out of a rare moment of egotism.

He only had to wait a few minutes before his phone vibrated.

> > nice pic… you look good :) tattoo looks good too. did I mention to you that I have a thing for tattoos?

> > You definitely didn’t mention that. And thanks. Do you get notifications for my posts or something? That was pretty quick on the draw…

> > i might. did you post it for me? ;) 

> > Maybe…

Dean had fallen asleep that night among visions of blue eyes, messy dark hair, and long, dexterous fingers.

 -

The chattering voices around Dean began to gradually die out, and he was brought back to the present moment. The stage remained empty for a few moments. The nervous twisting in Dean’s stomach ramped up. On one side of the tiny wooden stage sat an amplifier, and at the other, an electric-acoustic guitar on a stand. Dean reckoned that a regular old acoustic would’ve done just fine in a small place like this, but maybe Castiel was one for the dramatics.

Just when he felt like he couldn’t stand the anticipation anymore, a man with tousled black hair stepped out from behind the small curtain and onto the stage. A few people toward the back of the room hooted and hollered. _Oh that’s Castiel all right,_ Dean thought as his stomach gave a little lurch into his throat. He had a little bit of stubble coming in and Dean couldn’t help but think how much it suited him. Dean eyed his drink on the table in front of him, not liking how little was left in it. Drawing his eyes back up to the stage, he took in how agreeable Castiel was looking in his white tee shirt and jeans.

“Hi,” Castiel rumbled into the microphone as he made some small adjustments to its position. Hearing that voice for the first time in person made the hair on Dean’s arms stand up, and he snatched up his drink and drained what little was left of it.

“Thank you all for coming out tonight, it’s really great to know you’re here to support me and my music.” Castiel squinted, scanning the faces in the crowd through the darkness as best he could. Dean couldn’t decide whether he actually wanted Castiel to notice him just yet. Before he could make up his mind, he suddenly locked eyes with the most shockingly blue pair he’d ever looked into. _Phew boy…too late,_ he mused, unable to look away.

“It’s, mm, really nice to see some familiar faces,” Castiel said in his baritone voice as the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, holding that stare that seemed to be getting more intense by the moment. Castiel was the first to look away, turning to grab his guitar. Dean felt his face grow hot as he watched him sling the strap over his head and settle the guitar in place in front of his body. He was even more magnificent in person than in the photos Dean had poured over nightly. He had this captivating presence about him, and looked very much at home on the stage.

As Castiel launched straight into his first song, a manicured hand appeared over Dean’s shoulder, setting a new drink down in front of him. He glanced up at the bartender and smiled, hoping she didn’t notice his flushed cheeks.

“You’re a goddess,” he thanked her, wasting no time in imbibing it. 

As the music went on, Dean became more and more relaxed, settling back in his seat to enjoy the performance and his whiskey - and he definitely was not complaining about the view. Castiel’s singing voice was deep and melodic. The harder he played the more ravished he started to look. By the fourth song his hair was even more tousled than it had been when he first stepped on stage, and Dean selfishly noticed a couple beads of sweat glistening their way down his tanned neck that then disappeared below the neck of his shirt – not unlike the way his whiskey was sweating condensation down the side of Dean’s glass.

There was a pleasant warming sensation settling in Dean’s head now. He drank slower, trying to stay mindful and not push himself too far past this perfect point of “buzzed”. His jacket had been shorn off a couple songs ago, leaving Dean relaxed in his tee shirt and favorite flannel. He had not made direct eye contact with Castiel since the first instance before he had begun his set, and Dean decided he was perfectly okay with that. It had left room for him to settle in and let his nerves calm, allowing himself to unabashedly drink in the sight that was Castiel’s passionate strumming and singing. The darkness of the venue was in Dean’s favor tonight.

He switched from whiskey to water as Castiel seemed to be winding down to his last couple songs. The familiar topsy-turvy feeling in the pit of his stomach began to twist again as Dean’s mind went in fast-forward. What would he do after Castiel was done with his last song? Would it be weird to hang back for a bit and let Castiel chat with his better-known fans before saying hi? What would he say to him? They had never talked face to face, would it be awkward? Though, if all of the positive things he had heard about Castiel’s demeanor were true, Dean figured it couldn’t be _too_ awkward. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so bold in posting that shirtless photo -

“Thanks again, guys, for being here and listening, and hopefully enjoying yourselves.” Castiel’s voice pulled Dean from his thoughts. “This one is going to be my last song tonight, it’s a new one I haven’t released yet. I figured I’d test it out on you guys tonight and see how it goes.”

Dean’s pulse raced at the thought of getting to hear a new Castiel song that few, maybe even no one, beyond this room tonight had heard.

“It’s called “Humanity”.

Rather than launching into this song with his usual frenetic, syncopated strumming, Castiel began to pick lightly at the strings with his fingers in one of the most beautiful, melodic patterns Dean had ever heard. He had never heard Castiel play so gently – reverently, even. Dean kept his eyes trained on him from start to finish, allowing himself a small hope that he’d lock gazes with those electric blues over such an intimate song. But Castiel’s eyes remained gently closed for the whole thing, chin tilted slightly upward as if he was feeling the warmth of the sun on his face for the first time.

As the closing notes of the song faded away, the entire room became steeped in silence. Dean could feel his own face had gone slack, mouth faintly agape in awe. Castiel opened his eyes as Dean brought his hands firmly together, starting off the applause. The rest of the crowd joined in enthusiastically. Castiel smiled softly at the ground.

“Thanks again guys, hey, have a great rest of your night,” he said into the microphone, taking a moment to scan the room once more. Dean, whose eyes had not left Castiel’s figure for probably ten minutes now, finally caught the musician’s eye again. Castiel gave him a grin as Dean nodded, raising his applauding hands up in appreciation. 

Castiel placed his guitar back on its stand and left the stage without ceremony. The applause began to dissipate, sounds of chair legs scraping along the floor filled the room as people stood. Many headed for the door, chatting as they went. Dean remained seated. He grabbed his phone out of his crumpled jacket pocket and quickly noticed an unread message, sent at 7:02.

> > hope you made it. can’t wait to see you after :)

 Dean smiled down at his phone. Castiel had been thinking of him right before the show had started. That was an encouraging thought. He stuffed his phone back into his jacket pocket, and rose to his feet, pulling his jacket back on. The warmness from the whiskey and the venue itself were both wearing off now, and if Dean was about to go find Castiel, he felt better having one more layer of clothing on. He’d always felt a little more confident – a little more protected – in social situations when he was donning a few layers to hide behind. 

After a quick stop by the bar to close out his tab and thank the bartender once more, Dean began slowly wandering over toward a congregation of people over by the small entryway.. It was still just as dim in the place as it had been when Dean had entered a couple hours ago and only now did he start to realize this building didn’t even have any windows. Getting closer to the throng of people, he inadvertently made eye contact with an older, heavier-set guy in a newsboy cap.

“Great show, huh?” The guy beamed, clapping Dean lightly on the shoulder.

“Yeah, it was really great,” Dean replied honestly, giving the guy a smile back. Just talking to someone out loud helped to settle his nerves a bit.

“Castiel is a helluva guy! Nice, hard-working, and he can sure write a song worth a damn, huh?”

Dean searched for something to do with his hands.

“Yeah, he’s…”

“Hey! You’re not over here singing my praises to everyone are you, Arnold?” A guy whirled in seemingly out of nowhere, pulling the man in the cap – Arnold, apparently – into an enthusiastic hug, clapping him several times on the back.

“Ah, no way, Cas, I wouldn’t dare!” Arnold teased as they pulled away from each other. “I’m only your promoter, y’know, wouldn’t ever think of doing the job I get paid to do.” 

Dean stood by during this exchange, trying to not look too out of place. He still couldn’t decide on what to do with his hands, so he jammed them into his jacket pockets, figuring it was a better look than letting them hang limp at his sides. Castiel had practically materialized out of thin air, and Dean felt awkwardly caught off-guard by his sudden appearance. The musician rounded on him and broke out into a wide grin.

“Dean!”

Dean barely had time to react before a pair of sturdy arms enveloped him in a hug. Castiel was generating waves of body heat, still hot from his performance, though Dean took note he didn’t smell of sweat. He smelled…damn good. Like vetiver and some kind of spice that Dean couldn’t place. He realized his hands were still stuffed in his pockets and quickly wrapped them around Castiel’s back before the musician pulled away. His large hands slid down Dean’s arms, trailing along the heavy material of his jacket, and stilled at his wrists.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Castiel prompted Dean, keeping him close as the cluster of people behind them continued to shuffle around and chat loudly with one another. Dean finally seized the chance to look directly into Castiel’s eyes, startlingly close. He bit his lip as to keep from spilling just how much enjoyment he really got from watching Castiel up on stage.

“I did. You’re...really good live,” Dean smiled, suddenly feeling oddly shy.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel replied, a clear note of sincerity ringing in his voice. A moment passed – one that felt like it might’ve stretched on for minutes, but a moment nonetheless – as the two men locked gazes in silence. Dean mentally noted that this was the third time this had happened so far tonight. Castiel’s hands still lingered at the cuffs of Dean’s jacket. “Hey, stay here a sec, I’ve got to say a quick hi and bye to these fellas and then we can chat more. Don’t move.”

Dean didn’t move. Something about Castiel’s presence felt so commanding - though gentle - that Dean wouldn’t have even _thought_ about moving. He watched as Castiel made his way quickly from one person to another, giving out hugs, clapping people on their shoulders, all the while beaming that brilliant wide smile. It was a truly sincere smile, one that lit up his entire face. A smile that said, “I’m genuinely thankful for you.” Being on the receiving end of that smile was quite the gift, Dean supposed, and then quickly became embarrassed at his own sappiness.

He watched as a shorter man said something apparently funny and Castiel erupted into laughter, throwing his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. Dean couldn’t help but crack a smile, even without knowing the joke. Castiel’s laugh was guttural and infectious, and he’d be damned if Dean didn’t think it was the best laugh he’d ever heard.

 _Okay Dean_ \- he attempted to talk himself down in his mind – _you need to chill out, you’re starting to sound like one of those weird fans you hear about on TV who get weirdly obsessed with an actor or musician and start breaking into their house or stalking them or-_

“So, Dean,” Castiel reappeared, surprising Dean and forcing him reel in his runaway-train-thoughts. He felt the weight of a hand on the small of his back as Castiel’s shoulder brushed his. The musician took a couple slow steps towards the door, gently guiding Dean with him. “What else are you getting up to tonight?”

 _Well there’s a loaded question,_ Dean thought.

“Oh, uh…I dunno.”

_Smooth._

“I guess I’m just used to uh…going with the flow, y’know?”

_Somewhat decent attempt at a save?_

Castiel huffed a small laugh and pushed open the exit door. Either he was unaffected by Dean’s floundering, or was just being polite enough to not acknowledge it. Dean appreciated it either way.

The two men stepped out into the cool night air, a little cooler than it had been a couple hours prior, and Dean pulled his jacket a little closer. It wasn’t until this moment that Dean noticed Cas was still just in his tee shirt and jeans.

“Aren’t you cold, er…Castiel?” The name felt clunky and unusual on Dean’s tongue. Thinking back, he realized he probably hadn’t ever spoken it aloud before. _Huh. The internet is weird._

The corners of Castiel’s lips turned up and he cocked his head.

“Nah, I live in St. Louis, remember? This feels nice for March. Plus, y’know, the whole stage lights and playing music thing…gets hot.” As his sentenced trailed off, Castiel took a couple steps toward a long, dark vehicle idling to their left.

“Wait, this is yours? A limousine, seriously?” Dean inwardly winced at how appalled he sounded. He hadn’t meant for it to sound rude. Castiel just didn’t strike him as a limousine type of guy. Castiel looked sheepish as he stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets.

“Oh er, no. Not mine. Well, for tonight it is. Kind of. My manager hired it for me,” Castiel mumbled, eyes downcast.

Dean marveled at how one man could switch from such a boundless presence, almost too big to be contained by one body, to the discomfited, taciturn man before him in a matter of seconds.

“He thought since I’m in Los Angeles and all that, I should have at least something a little flashy while I’m here. I’m…not typically a flashy guy, personally.” Castiel glanced up at Dean through his dark eyelashes.

Dean shrunk into his jacket, an attempt to hide his flushed cheeks.

“Sorry, I –“

Castiel quickly cut him short of his apology.

“It’s fine, I get it. I would’ve been confused, too.” He smiled earnestly. Dean’s shoulders retreated from his ears. “Anyway – are you coming?” Castiel opened the limo door and raised his eyebrows at Dean.

The six feet of distance between the two men became five, then four, three, as Dean strode toward Castiel without a second thought. Hell, who was he to turn down a Saturday night limo ride with a ridiculously attractive musician who seemed to be pretty into him as well? _Why would that even be a question?_ Just as he closed the distance between the two of them, Castiel ducked out of sight, clambering into the spacious back seat. It felt like a game of cat and mouse had started that Dean did not know he agreed to play. Castiel’s face reappeared, leaning forward from his seat.

“C’mon, hop in. Oh and…you can call me Cas.”

Dean glanced up at the night sky, then behind him at the few final folks meandering out of the venue’s front door, then back at Castiel. _Cas._ He ducked into the limo and shut its door firmly behind him, knee knocking into Castiel’s as he sunk back into the seat. Dean left it there, hoping Cas wouldn’t move his either. He didn’t.

The limo shuddered to life beneath the plush leather seat and began to move. Dean regarded Cas again and noticed they were getting quite good at the silent-eye-gazing thing ( _number four…_ ) that seemed to come naturally to the two of them. Giving Cas a small smile, Dean rubbed the back of his neck and allowed himself to get excited at the prospect of what the night could bring.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hoping it won't be too long before Chapter 2 is ready to go :)


End file.
